


Lovers of Three

by SansyFresh



Series: Fresh's Babble Collection [14]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Slight Panic Attack, They just don't want to admit it, drunk, they care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:49:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9052246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: Stretch comes home drunk to two pissed off skeles.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FamousSmuggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FamousSmuggler/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Smug ^^

Stretch sat at the bar, tipping back another shot before settling his head on the counter. This ‘Grillby’s’ wasn’t a bad spot, the warmth from the bartender numbing his bones a bit, allowing the alcohol to fully settle in his magic. Looking up towards the clock that was in the room, Stretch mumbled a little to himself before hopping off his stool and placing a few gold on the counter. He shuffled out into the night, shivering a little at the drastic change in temperature before heading home. _Home_ , he laughed to himself. _Yeah, right_.

 

The three Sanses had left, and wouldn’t be back for a month. Why, he couldn’t exactly recall in his highly inebriated state. The one thing he could focus on in the moment was getting home and avoiding the two other hims that never left him alone. They were so different from him, almost opposites. When he was sober he could put up with it, just listen to what they said and give excuses like he did with his own bro. He really didn’t think he could focus enough to even talk at the moment.

 

Stomping his sneakers to get the snow off, Stretch fumbled with the door and slipped inside, kicking off his shoes and turning to find a pair of scowling faces in his own. Yelping, Stretch fell to the floor, groaning as his head hit the door.

 

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN, ASHTRASH?!” Fell screamed down at him. Stretch scowled up at him, rubbing the back of his head as he attempted to sit up, rather than slouching against the door.

 

“What do youuu care, you fuckin’ bastard.” Stretch slurred, trying unsuccessfully to pick himself up. He heard a pair of growls and squeaked wide eyed as two pairs of arms lifted him up and put him roughly on the couch.

 

“WHY WOULDN’T WE CARE? AND REALLY, BOTH OF YOU NEED TO STOP WITH THE LANGUAGE.” Pap said, folding his arms, a rare glance of true exasperation on his skull. Stretch stared up at him for a moment, a bit confused. What had he done to make them this angry?

 

“WE’VE BEEN WORKING OUR ASSES OFF, THEN WE COME HOME AND MAKE DINNER, AND YOU WERE NEITHER AT WORK NOR AT HOME. WHAT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO THINK?” Fell asked, frowning. Stretch stared up at the both of them for a moment, his drunk mind trying desperately to figure out what was going on. Unable to puzzle it out, he growled and stood unsteadily to his feet, pushing past them to go to his room.

 

“OH NO, YOU DON’T! YOU ARE NOT LEAVING UNTIL WE TALK ABOUT THIS!” Pap yelled, grabbing the back of Stretch’s hoody and yanking him back from the stairs. Stretch fell to the floor having successfully lost his balance and looked up at the both of them, his drunk as all fuck mind making him think they were trying to hurt him. Whimpering, he shuffled back, still on the floor, until he hit the couch, looking around for an escape as they came closer.

 

“WHAT ON EARTH IS YOUR PROBLEM?” Fell asked, his tone tinged with worry. Stretch whimpered again and finally remembered his shortcuts, taking one and falling to the floor in his room upstairs. He groaned as he landed. Taking shortcuts drunk always ended with him missing his target by just enough to knock into something; this time he was a couple feet off the floor. The sound of two pairs of footsteps making their way up the stairs put him back into his panicked state, hand rose in an instant, magic furling around the door handle and locking it securely. He found himself in the corner of the room, two pairs of voices at the door, fists pounding as they told him to let them in.

 

Stretch felt himself passing out, but as a last ditch effort to keep them away he summoned several long bones, each barricading the door so that soon, it simply looked like a wall of crisscrossed bone. Satisfied he was safe, Stretch let himself go, sockets slipping shut even as Fell had begun beating at the door in an attempt to break it.

 

~.~

 

When Stretch awoke again he moaned as his skull pulsed in acute pain, one hand raising to block the light of whatever room he had crashed in during his drunk stupor. He really needed to stop that. At some point. Yeah.

 

Yawning a little, he sat up, finding himself both in his upstairs bed, blankets wrapped firmly around him. He blinked a little, confused. Surely his drunk ass didn’t make it upstairs, let alone in bed and covered. Swinging his legs out of bed, Stretch looked to the doorway and winced as he saw that his door was gone, completely torn out of its hinges and set neatly against the wall beside his dresser.

 

Stretch felt an increased pulse of pain in his skull and rose one hand to rub at the bone, stopping once his phalanges met a sticky note. Pulling it off, he saw the distinct font of Papyrus (with little additions by Fell), telling him to stay in bed and that they would be in to check on him later. That they had been worried and he should really try to drink less. Stretch read it a couple times before chuckling fondly and getting back under the covers, his day off given the blessing by his normally insistent doppelgangers. He wouldn’t question miracles.


End file.
